


All About Convenience

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Prompto is told, in no uncertain terms, that now he's eighteen his father isn't going to pay another cent towards him or his maintenance. He's got two options; accept abject poverty or use his time at a retreat for young nobles in Tenebrae to get hitched to someone who actually has money.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 34
Kudos: 267





	All About Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why but apparently adorable Promptis is the mood of this month?? I've been writing a lot of "SURPRISE PRINCE!" meet-cute fics lately but eeeeeh fuck it this one's cute. Planning for something different next time. Please enjoy!

Prompto’s entire life has been something of an accident. His father only really kept him on hand after he was born to appease his longtime lover. Prompto was made Verstael Besithia’s heir, publicly recognised as his bastard, but he maintained his mother’s common surname and has been ‘ _brought up’_ mainly through sheer happenstance. Not many people know Lord Besithia and the Chancellor are involved but Prompto sure does because Chancellor Izunia’s eccentric fondness for him is the only thing that’s kept him fed and watered for eighteen years. But now he’s bigger and less cute and the Chancellor is more involved in international affairs.

Frankly Prompto’s father is sick of it and sick of him.

“I’m going to the laboratory,” his father announces one day with his bags packed.

“Like Zegnautus?” Prompto supposes dumbly.

“Like the artic,” his father snaps back tightly.

“What should I….?” Prompto’s only just finished high school. He should be looking at universities but he doesn’t have access to the main family back accounts. He just has a tenuous allowance.

“You’re going to Tenebrae,” his father announces.

“ _What?_ ” Prompto lurches.

“Oracle Queen Sylva is holding some debauched festival for noble and royal youth in her palace,” his father explains, “I’ve secured you an invitation. You’re going to go there and, with any luck, get married to someone useful.”

“B-but—!”

“Your grades are useless to me—”

“I got a ninety-six!” Prompto argues.

“In art history!” His father snaps. “I’m not paying to send you to university. I’m not paying for anything else. You’re going to become someone else’s problem, quick smart, because if you come back here empty handed you can be damn certain you won’t be mine anymore.”

“So you’re…?” Prompto fumbles. “You’re cutting me off? Just like that?”

“You’re eighteen. You’re an adult.” His father chides.

“I don’t have anything!” Prompto panics. “How am I supposed to provide for myself? I’ll be destitute and homeless and—”

“And not my problem,” Verstael sighs wistfully.

“I’m supposed to be your heir,” Prompto feels his knees going very weak.

“You’re hardly qualified to run a pawn shop let alone my scientific empire.” His father scoffs. “You can have the estates and the private funds when I’m dead and cold but until then I don’t have to give you anything.”

“I…” Prompto trembles, mind whirring. “Can I…?”

“You may take your security with you.” Verstael supposes trivially. “That mercenary and her ilk. I’d like them gone with you, frankly.”

Prompto nods dumbly. He knows he doesn’t have a foot to stand on to talk his father out of this. He suspects this is a ploy to get back at the Chancellor who’s been less than attentive recently but that doesn’t diminish the sincerity of the threat. His father would love to get rid of him, he knows that.

Verstael nods, has an MT thrust a bundle of paperwork at Prompto, and stalks off to catch his airship out north.

Prompto flips through the papers. Plane tickets to Tenebrae for four, economy, Oracle Sylva’s hand-written invitation to the luxurious multiple day festival she’s throwing, a cheque for a modest sum, technical details about the scheduling and wardrobe requirements of the event….

Prompto swallows.

He’s so screwed.

* * *

Prompto has probably one friend in all of Niflheim; his bodyguard Aranea Highwind. She’s a mercenary by trade but she’s been paid to keep him safe for a number of years now with her two subordinates and contracts Biggs and Wedge. Right now Aranea is all Prompto has standing between himself and utter desolation.

He calls her to his rooms. They break out the laptops and throw open the wardrobes and start scheming. They’ve always had to be frugal but this is a new low. Aranea concludes that with what’s sitting in Prompto’s personal account and the cheque, with plane tickets already paid for, they should have enough to outfit him in style but that gives them zero wiggle room if he comes back to Niflheim empty handed.

“I think we keep the money,” Aranea decides. “You’re going to need it to rent an apartment or something if we can’t get you hitched.”

“But if I don’t have any new clothes for the festival I’m not getting hitched.” Prompto winces.

“You can sew.” Aranea grunts, rifling through his wardrobe. “The fabrics are top quality, the ornaments are expensive; the bones are good. You just need to adapt what you’ve got a little.”

Prompto eases off the bed to come appraise his ceremonial and formal clothes. They’re built for particular Niflheim court functions but he doesn’t suppose he’s ever going back to court at this rate.

“If I spliced this outfit and this one…” he starts to arrange his things thoughtfully.

“It’s warmer in Tenebrae.” Aranea rues. “We can make the fabric stretch. How many outfits do you need again?”

“Like six formal dress changes and maybe a weeks’ work of designer casual?” Prompto thinks.

“Okay, how long before the plane leaves?”

“A week, little more, like eight days.” Prompto recites.

“Forget everything else. Sew like crazy.” Aranea orders. “We’ve got enough in the pantry to keep you fed that long you just can’t be decadent. Send home as many of the staff as you can; the less we have to feed the further it’ll stretch.”

“Right,” Prompto nods. “Aranea I…. how am I going to pay you for all this?”

“Your father already paid for the trip. We’re covered until its over.” Aranea shrugs. “Things are just going to be tighter than a walnut’s corset.”

“Should we bring Biggs and Wedge? Do we have the money?”

“No, not really,” Aranae rues. “I’ll have em on speed dial but the royal estate in Tenebrae will be plenty secure as is anyway. Besides, if they don’t come we can sell those two extra plane tickets and buy you some more fabric.”

“Alright,” Prompto wheezes. “Okay…”

“Have you tried calling the Chancellor?” Aranea suggests.

“I don’t have his private number,” Prompto confesses. “The secretaries at his office bump me down all the call lists. I’m just some noble minister’s bastard.”

“Fucking Six…” Aranea sighs. “Alright, fuck, better stop sulking and start sewing. You get to work I’m going to dismiss some staff before they get ideas about dinner.”

Prompto takes a deep breath and watches her go. Panic and fear about his future is nothing new to him. He always sort of suspected this day would come eventually. He wants to curl up in a ball and cry but he’s long since learnt that’s not going to do him any good so pulling his clothes out of the wardrobe he starts making decisions about how he’s going to realign his outfits. Prompto wants to panic, his stomach is all hot acid, but Prompto doesn’t have time to freak out and forget himself. Mindless wailing is for people with hope, people who aren’t in really danger, people who are going to be saved… No one is going to save Prompto. He has to get to work if he wants to float out of this storm.

While Prompto sews Aranea spends the next several days looking over the guest list for the festival. Aranea is not a noble by any stretch of the imagination but she’s frugal and vicious and she’s been head hunting all her life. She doesn’t understand half the titles or who people are in their respective governments but she researches and researches and starts to concoct a plan.

“We’re not getting you hitched to some noble lady.” Aranea concludes on day three from her pile of lists and strategies. “There’s some rich kids coming from Accordo, which is democratic, but because you’re a boy people are still going to expect you to pay a dowry or some shit. Boy’s families take their wives on, not the other way around, at least not with rich, noble, fuckers looking for powerful alliances.”

“So I’m screwed?” Prompto sags in his seat by the sewing machine.

“Not exactly,” Aranea promises. “You’re not going to be anyone’s husband but there are a lot of eligible young bachelors coming. We’ve got to make you a toy boy.”

“ _A what?_ ” Prompto lurches.

“You know, a consort or whatever it’s called,” Aranea waves her hand impatiently. “We’ve got to get some rich noble dude to fall head over heels with you. He puts you up in his palace, pays for you to have nice things, and you make his future wife jealous for years to come.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to be a prostitute,” Prompto wheezes, grasping his temples.

“Look, blondie, either way you’re going to have to fuck someone.” Aranea snorts. “This just means you’re taking it up the butt. You’ll be fine. Women have been enduring worse for centuries.”

“What about Queen Sylva’s daughter? Lady Lunafreya. She’s single and because she’s going to be Oracle it would be expected her spouse travel with her on her duties and—”

“And she’s very desirable to virtually all the other royal houses.” Aranea reminds. “You don’t got a snowball’s chance in hell with the princess. You need to find a lonely looking dude in a very expensive suit and cuddle up to him like your life depends on it.”

“Oh my god…” Prompto moans, head in his hands.

“Less existential crisis, more sewing,” Aranea orders throwing a scrunched up ball of paper at him.

“R-right! Right!” Prompto takes a deep breath, pulling himself back together again. If this is what he has to do this is what he has to do.

* * *

Getting to Tenebrae is a tense ordeal. Their flight leaves at like six in the morning and it’s a twelve hour economy flight. They have no money for a hotel when they arrive which means they’re going straight to the royal estate in a cheap rental car and Prompto has to look pretty when he steps out. Aranea drives and shouts at him about his hair while he tries to make himself presentable in the back seat. He changes outfits in the car while Aranea takes them up the mountain road. He feels like a hot mess but it’ll just have to do.

“Looks loads better,” Aranea promises.

“I feel like I’m going to die, I’m so tired,” Prompto moans.

“You’re going to dance and party with those rich kids all fucking night if that’s what it takes for one of them to fall in love with you.” Aranea orders sternly.

“Right,” Prompto wheezes, playing with his hair again, panicking.

“Stop fussing it, it looks fine,” Aranea snaps as they pull into the estate. They don’t have a state car but their security passes get them in just fine and Prompto only feels a little mortified as he gets ready to step out onto the lawn with the other royals and nobles. “I’ll make sure your shit gets safe to your room,” Aranea promises. “Keep your phone on you at all times.”

“Got it,” Prompto inhales.

“Good luck Kiddo,” Aranea sticks her thumb up.

“Thanks,” Prompto laughs, stepping out of the car into the arena.

Prompto is escorted up the stairs into the palace. His first order of business is to introduce himself to Queen Sylva and formally thank her for her invitation which goes about as well as expected because absolutely no one seems to know who he is. The Queen is nice, smiles fondly, and Prompto bows low but her son, Prince Ravus, looks less than impressed with the proceedings.

Then it’s out into the gardens to start socialising. The champagne is already flowing in the fading light and, for a second, Prompto is determined to make himself damn attractive to someone. Anyone.

The garden looks gorgeous. There are fairy lights and huge tables of food. Royals, nobles, and rich Accordan kids are all swirling around looking delectable and promising. Prompto tries to introduce himself, tries to dance with a few people, but there comes an almost immediate sinking realisation that he’s a small fish in a big, big, pond.

He’s so screwed.

Prompto feels panic start to creep over him again. If he doesn’t find someone, anyone, at this he’s going home with nothing. He’ll be a nobody. He’ll be dirt poor. He’ll be desperate.

Taking a deep breath Prompto extracts himself from the festivities to have a panic attack in the hedge maze. He allows himself a second to catch his racing heart, to reign in the blind panic, and running a hand through his hair tries to tell himself it’ll be alright.

“Yo, you alright dude?” 

Promtpo spins. The hedge maze is so dark he totally missed the guy sitting on the bench no more than ten feet away. Prompto flushes, totally embarrassed, and tries to pass it off with a laugh.

“S-sorry,” he laughs, “didn’t see you there.”

“Do you need a doctor?” The guy asks from the bench. “Sounded like you were going to hyperventilate for a second there.”

“Just…” Prompto smiles weakly and paws at the back of his neck. “Just nerves, I guess. Sorry, I’ll….”

“Dude, same.” The young man sympathises. “You want to sit for a second?”

“Is that okay?” Prompto hesitates.

“Yeah, go for it,” the young man beckons by cocking his chin and gesturing to the spot next to him with his thumb. 

Prompto collapses into the seat. He probably should be more graceful but he’s so distraught its hard to focus. He gets a better look at the other young man from this angle. He’s young, elfin, dark haired and playing games by the light of his cellphone seemingly without a worry in the world.

Another party reject?

“Prompto,” he tries to introduce himself sheepishly.

“Noctis,” the other replies, flexing a smile at him when he glances briefly up from his phone. “You don’t look like you’re having fun, Prompto?”

“I’m not having any luck,” Prompto shrugs. “I’m not great at these things.”

“Feel your pain,” Noctis promises. “I’m staying here till the fireworks then I’m sneaking off to bed. The flight over wrecked me.”

“Oh my god, same.” Prompto moans. “We had to be up at like four am to make it through security.”

“I get so plane sick,” Noctis rues. “We don’t have a lot of planes in Lucis so…”

“Lucis, huh?” Prompto perks. “I’ve always wanted to go to Lucis. Is it nice?”

“Tenebrae is nice too but, yeah, Lucis is the best.” Noctis promises. “Where are you from?”

“Niflheim, the cold parts.”

“Isn’t that, like, all of it?” Noctis snorts.

“Pretty much.” Prompto laughs weakly.

“I like your outfit. Looks like an actual designer made it not a funeral director.” Noctis praises.

“Thanks,” Prompto flushes with delight, “I—” He hesitates. He doesn’t want to sound destitute just yet. “I helped design it.”

“Very stylish, man.” Noctis gives him the thumbs up.

“What you playing?” Prompto asks.

“King’s Knight.” Noctis explains. “Its big shit back in Lucis.”

“I’ve never played,” Prompto admits. “RPG or survival sim?”

“RPG, multiplayer,” Noctis explains, pausing the game to bring up his menu and demonstrate. “You can be all sorts of classes. My character is magic based.”

“Well you are Lucian,” Prompto laughs, “so that makes sense.”

“You going to sneak back to the party?” Noctis supposes, pulling his phone back.

“I should…” Prompto nibbles his bottom lip. He feels so defeated. “I’m supposed to make friends and stuff.”

“Give me your phone,” Noctis orders.

“Why?” Prompto hesitates.

“You’re not making any friends looking like that.” Noctis assures him. “I’m going to install King’s Knight on your phone and we’re going to play and I’ll be your starter friend tonight. You’ll have way better luck tomorrow when everyone’s not tired and cranky from travelling.”

“Y-you think…?” Prompto wavers, handing his phone over.

“Absolutely,” Noctis promises, taking his phone and starting to peruse to the app store. “I’m not talking to anyone cause I’ve got a wicked nasty temper when I’m tired. My secretary told me not to piss anyone off so I’m hiding till I’m in a better mood.”

“You seem plenty nice to me,” Prompto smiles.

“Yeah, well, you’re not annoying.” Noctis decides, handing Prompto his phone back while the game downloads.

Noctis helps Prompto set up an account and together they work through some basic dungeon levels, Noctis showing Prompto the mechanics of the game. Eventually the fire works start to boom and sizzle overhead and Noctis whistles lowly.

“They’re pretty…” Prompto sags, smiling weakly.

“Yeah…” Noctis agrees.

They sit there, watching the fireworks quietly, for almost half an hour. It must be getting late by then. Prompto sags a little deeper into the seat.

“I don’t think I can move,” he jokes.

“I’m going to find a way to my bed,” Noctis assures. “If I die on the way there it’ll be worth it.”

“Thanks for, um, being nice.” Prompto smiles.

“Find me tomorrow, if socialising doesn’t work out,” Noctis tempts. “I’ll show you how to farm in King’s Knight.”

“Where are you going to be?”

“Wherever the people aren’t.” Noctis snorts.

“Got it,” Prompto laughs.

* * *

Prompto’s been given a suitably small room but Aranea assures him its nothing compared to the _‘fucking barracks_ ’ she’s sleeping in. Prompto sleeps like a rock, passing out as soon as his head hits in the pillow, but he’s up bright and early with Aranea helping him get dressed for breakfast in the grand hall.

At breakfast no one seems interested in him, yet again, so Prompto tries to eat enough to keep him going for the rest of the day so he can get really stuck into it. He starts to gather who some of the guests are. He recognises some of them from Niflheim royal court or diplomatic visits or the papers but some faces are unfamiliar to him. He starts checking people into _‘No Go’, ‘Yes’_ and ‘ _Maybe_ ’ categories based off what he does know. He’s not sure who exactly Noctis is in the grand scheme of things so he gets a _‘Maybe’_.

Prompto finds himself slipping into a few conversations when things get more casual after breakfast. Everyone’s definitely in a better mood today. They have more patience for oddities and entertainments. Prompto manages to charm a Niff noble called Loqi Tummelt and he tries to hold his interest through the day but Loqi is very, very, fickle and by early afternoon Prompto’s patience is waning thin and Loqi has forgotten him in favour showing off Niff rifles to a gaggle of Accordan girls.

Another dark dread overcomes Prompto. He downs a champagne flute quickly in the background and heads down the steps into a wider swathe of garden. He feels so lost, so hopeless…

It doesn’t take long to find Noctis.

He’s by a fountain in the lower garden, watching over the edge of the plateau to the cityscape below, and he barely twitches as Prompto sinks down next to him.

“No luck?” Noctis supposes gently.

“No luck,” Prompto sighs. “I feel invisible.”

“It’s nice to be invisible sometimes,” Noctis shrugs. “You lasted most of the day though, what happened?”

“I was talking to a Niff boy, from home, but he got bored of me.” 

“Ouch,” Noctis scrunches up his face. “People are jerks.”

“Yeah…” Prompto sighs wringing his fingers in his lap.

“What are you trying to do anyway?” Noctis supposes. “Is your family down on its luck or something?”

“Am I that obvious?” Prompto winces.

“You’ve got a certain air of desperation,” Noctis admits, “and you’re taking this whole thing way more seriously than everyone else.”

“My…” Prompto sighs. “Don’t tell anyone?”

“Who am I going to tell?” Noctis supposes, gesturing around the empty clearing. “All my friends?”

“My father said he’s going to throw me out after this.” Prompto admits. “If I don’t get married or something I basically don’t get anything.”

“But he’ll, like, get you set up though. Right?” Noctis frowns.

“He—” Prompto can’t make the words come out without crying so he just presses his lips together, eyes stinging, and shakes his head.

“But… _he’s your Dad_ ,” Noctis reels. “You’re his kid. How can he just throw you out?”

Prompto sniffs, trying to clear his eyes without leaving blotches on his sleeve. “I’m a bastard. I don’t really count.”

“Of course you count!” Noctis huffs indignantly. “That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard!”

“It’s…” Prompto sighs, burying his face in his hands. “I’m glad you like my clothes…?” He laughs bitterly. “I made them.”

Noctis looks at him, lets that sink in for a second, and starts swearing.

“Absolutely _fucking_ —” Noctis whips his phone out and grabs Prompto’s hand.

“What—?” Prompto lets himself be yanked up.

“We’re blowing this joint,” Noctis explains, “there’s a dessert café I used to sneak to when I came here as a kid.” 

Prompto tries to argue but Noctis hushes him and sneaks him around the back of the garden into the back of the palace. Not the ‘official’ back of the palace, oh no, the service area. _The kitchens. The storerooms._ Noctis weaves around like he knows the place then, still tugging Prompto’s hand, he pulls them out into the back of the drive where the cars are all parked. Two big, handsome, men are already waiting for them by a slick rental car.

“Noctis, I really don’t think—” the tall one in glasses starts complaining.

“They won’t even notice we’re gone,” Noctis insists. “Come on Iggy, just floor it. I’m begging you.”

It occurs to Prompto he might be getting kidnapped but that’d be a pretty shitty kidnapping considering he’s just told Noctis he’s destitute.

The one in glasses sighs and the bulkier guard, with the scars, opens the back door of the car to let Prompto and Noctis in.

They flash security passes to get off the estate and then Noctis’ men drive them down the hillside into the city. They park in a back lot and slink into a dessert café just like promised. Prompto has managed to stop crying by now but his eyes are still red and puffy and Noctis hasn’t let go of his hand.

“What’re we having kids?” Gladio, the bigger of the two attendants, asks while he fetches them menus from the counter.

“Lots of chocolate and whipped cream,” Noctis declares stubbornly, handing Prompto a menu.

“Just don’t ruin your dinner,” Ignis, the bespectacled attendant, warns.

“Yeah, yeah…” Noctis grunts. “You like strawberries, Prompto?”

“Yeah…?” Prompto sniffs, lifting up the menu.

“What about pancakes?” Noctis suggests.

“Oh man…” Prompto laughs softly. “I’d love some pancakes…”

“Iggy what’re the ones I get?” Noctis asks.

“The Ulwaat berry tartlets,” Ignis answers diligently.

“Oh yeah, we’re getting like six of those,” Noctis nods sagely, turning back to his menu.

“I suspect five would be more than generous.” Ignis snorts.

Noctis and his attendants are really lovely people. Ignis is a little sombre but he’s a total mother hen, very dutiful and loving in his own quiet way. Gladio, the big guy, is really charming and sociable with everyone. He picks on Noctis and smiles and makes jokes and is just generally a big teddy bear. Noctis is kind of ridiculous, totally does whatever he feels like without hesitation, but he’s super sweet and he makes Prompto smile. Prompto, for the first time since he arrived, feels like he’s visible. He feels like he’s surrounded by actual human beings.

“Thanks for this,” Prompto smiles hesitantly. “I don’t think I’ve had such a friendly meal in years.”

“Can’t have that,” Ignis shakes his head sternly. “But this evening’s festivities will be starting up again soon. We should get you both back.”

“Thanks for letting me go off road, Iggy,” Noctis sighs.

“It seems it was necessary.” Ignis shrugs. “Perhaps, if socialising is so important to Prompto’s position, you could help him make some alliances?”

“Not with those vipers.” Noctis huffs. “Besides, Prompto’s survival shouldn’t be dependent on whether or not he gets someone to buy him like a horse.”

“As true as that is,” Ignis sighs, “the world of politics and nobility is a cruel place.”

“Its okay guys,” Prompto wipes his face again as they ease back to the car, “didn’t look like Noctis was having any more luck than me. I think we’re just all destined to be nobodies, no offence.”

“ _Nobod--?_ ” Ignis looks bamboozled but Gladio quickly shuts him up.

“None taken, Blondie,” Gladio assures. “Hop in.”

Noctis too looks a little taken aback but it’s not until they’re in the car that Noctis asks;

“Prompto do you know much about Lucian politics?”

“I barely know anything about Niff politics,” Prompto shrugs miserably. “I think you guys have a King, right?”

“Right…” Noctis laughs awkwardly.

“Noctis—” Ignis starts.

“It’s fine, it’s not important,” Noctis seems to decide. “Let’s just get back to that stupid festival. You can hang out with me tonight.”

“Sounds nice,” Prompto smiles, resting his head on Noctis’ shoulder in the backseat.

* * *

Prompto has to admit he really does know virtually nothing about politics. He knows some of the big names back home but he’s no expert. He never thought he’d have to play this complicated game of alliances and bloodlines.

Still… Noctis is nice. Maybe they can exchange email addresses and be penpals when Prompto slinks back to Niflheim a nobody? He’s going to be broke but his phone has internet so…

Noctis corrals them into a quiet sitting room and they curl up on an antique sofa playing King’s Knight for most of the night. There are fireworks again and some kind of ceremony but they skip it in favour of cuddling up. Noctis shows Prompto songs he likes and they talk about movies and its so nice to have a friend his own age even if Prompto isn’t doing anything to save himself.

Around ten Loqi and a few Accordan girls stumble into the sitting room looking for some ‘ _privacy_ ’. Prompto flushes, closing his phone, but Noctis doesn’t even twitch, arm around Prompto’s shoulders.

“If you don’t mind—” Loqi begins condescendingly.

“I do. Get lost.” Noctis snaps back without even glancing up.

Loqi runs through the gambit from surprised to infuriated and offended so quickly Prompto feels his stomach flip but then one of the Accordan girls grabs Loqi’s shoulder and whispers something in his ear and—

“Oh, of course,” Loqi backs down instantly, “my apologies. We’ll find somewhere else.”

Prompto blinks, confused, but Noctis pulls him back down against his side as Loqi slinks gently out of the room with his ladies.

“What was that?” Prompto blinks.

“I’m scary and guys like him have tiny dicks.” Noctis shrugs. “Show me that song again?”

“Huh? Oh—!” Prompto pulls his phone back out.

Prompto spends the next two days hiding with Noctis. He’s sort of accepted his defeat at this stage. It was an outrageous strategy to being with. He’s not sure how he’s going to tell Aranea they’re doomed and she’s going to need a new job but he’s sure she already knows its not going well.

Noctis asks, eventually, who Prompto brought with him and Prompto answers;

“I’ve only got one guard, her name’s Aranea. She was a mercenary. She’s really nice but….” Prompto laughs weakly. “I guess she’s going to need a new job when we get home…”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Noctis admits. “I was wondering if, um, you might want to come to Lucis?”

“What do you mean?” Prompto blinks.

“Well the plan was that you find someone to marry you or whatever, right?” Noctis supposes. “Well I can put you up. You can be my…. _Acquired friend?_ ”

“Oh Noct…” Prompto laughs miserably. “I couldn’t ask that of you. I’m sure your family has its own problems. You don’t need to support me too.”

“I want to,” Noctis insists stubbornly. “You’re nice and you don’t deserve to be treated like crap. My family has more than enough money to put you up. If you want you can come to university with me? Then you can get a job and we’ll make it work?”

“You… you think so…?” Prompto wavers. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, dude, of course.” Noctis promises. “You’ll have to learn how they do things in Lucis but I think you’ll adjust.”

“Does your family go to court and stuff?” Prompto asks. “I haven’t even asked what your title is yet…”

“Yeah, they do.” Noctis nods. “We’re an old family.”

“I’d really like to come with you, honestly.” Prompto admits. “If its okay, that’d be amazing?”

“Do you want to bring Aranea too?” Noctis asks.

“I don’t—”

“Forget money for a second,” Noctis silences him gently. “Do you want Aranea? Is she good security? I’m sure we could give her a job.”

“She’s the best.” Prompto wheezes weakly.

“Cool,” Noctis whips his phone out, “I’ll get Ignis to secure us two more spots on the plane.”

“Y-you’re the best—” Prompto starts to blubber.

“Oh Prom,” Noctis laughs patiently, pulling Prompto into his side. “It’s going to be okay. Okay? Just trust me.”

Prompto whimpers into his neck and clavicle and Noctis just holds him for what feels like forever.

Aranea hurries up to Prompto’s room that night, a little mystified and demands details.

“So… operation successful?” Aranea supposes, pacing quietly while Prompto tries to explain the situation to her. “So this Lucian guy, whatever his name is, he’s going to like put you up with him? And I can come get a job too?”

“Yeah,” Prompto nods dumbly, hugging the pillow to his chest. “He’s so nice Aranea. Like I don’t think this is even a sex thing. He’s just so nice. He said that his family would be interested in hiring you too and… will you come?”

“Well…” Aranea laughs. “Honestly? I’d much rather work with you than your old man, that’s for sure. He hasn’t paid me for the next couple of weeks so technically our contract is void anyway. I… I guess we’re going to Lucis?”

Prompto squeals and jumps off the bed into Aranea’s arms.

“What’s this kid’s name again?” Aranea asks.

“Noctis,” Prompto chirps. “Wonderful Noctis.”

“I’ll be sure to kiss his ass,” Aranea laughs, hugging Prompto lazily. “We’re sure he’s not an organ trafficker?”

“I think so?” Prompto adds a bit uncertainly.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” Aranea shrugs.

* * *

Prompto and Aranea meet Ignis, Gladio and Noctis as they shuffle out of the palace with the exiting royals. Noctis throws his arm around Prompto’s shoulder and Prompto, delighted, watches as his luggage is loaded into he trailer attached to the rental car Gladio is going to drive to the airport. Ignis and Aranea exchange most of the pleasantries, getting their heads around each other, but all seems well.

At least everything seems normal and okay until they get to the airport.

At the Tenebrae airport they’re whisked past security into _a private first class_ _lounge_.

“Dude,” Aranea whispers as Noctis head to the bathroom with Gladio and Ignis goes to organise drinks from the server. “Who are these clowns? How rich is your friend exactly?”

“I-I don’t know?” Prompto admits. “I figured he was an earl or something…?”

“I don’t think he’s no fucking earl,” Aranea wheezes, commanding herself back into nonchalance when Ignis returns to ask Prompto if he’d like a wine.

Prompto’s not as good as hiding his expressions and something of his confusion must show because when Noctis comes back form the bathroom he takes Prompto’s hand and leads him over to the windows overlooking the tarmac.

“You’re probably got an inkling now my family can look after you,” Noctis supposes calmly, almost looking a touch embarrassed if anything.

“Um, yeah…” Prompto admits. “Noct, who exactly…?”

“I’m sorry I never did this properly but I’m not great at introductions,” Noctis shrugs, squeezing Prompto’s hand. “Prompto, my name’s Noctis Lucis Caelum. Prince of Lucis.”

Prompto feels his stomach crash down through his feet.

“ _P-prince?_ ” Prompto wheezes.

“Crown Prince technically,” Noctis sighs, glancing cautiously back at Ignis. “Ignis and Gladio are two of my lords but they also hold official positions in the government and my retinue. They could’ve gotten invitations to this event but if they came in an official capacity it meant less security and less cars and… Well, my Dad’s protective given I’m an only child so…”

Prompto’s heart is hammering hard as a behemoth in his chest.

“You’re a—you’re _the_ Prince?” Prompto repeats. “The only prince in Lucis?”

“Yeah,” Noctis nods. “Does that change things?”

“S-sort of…” Prompto whispers in awe. “Why didn’t you say anything…?”

“It was really nice to have someone be friendly with me even when they didn’t feel like they had to be,” Noctis shrugs weakly. “I wanted to see if you and your story were legit before I offered anything like this but you’ve been so honest this whole time I figured it was my turn.”

Prompto swallows.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto whispers. “I’m just a little… I’m a little shocked. That’s… Wow…”

“Offer still stands,” Noctis maintains. “You can come live in Lucis, with me and the guys, and we’ll hire Aranea as part of your security detail. You can come to university with me. I don’t expect anything more than friendship and honesty. But if this is…. If you want, I’ll pay for a ticket back to Niflheim instead?”

“C-can I sit down…?” Prompto whispers, clutching his temple. “I feel dizzy…”

“Sure, of course,” Noctis lurches into action, helping Prompto down into a seat by the window. “I know this is a lot, I’m sorry.”

“I… I didn’t expect this…” Prompto manages. “I don’t want to go back to Niflheim but this is so much…”

“Prompto I will fly you home in two months or two years if you want,” Noctis promises. “But you’re a sweet, funny, human being and I don’t like the idea of you living anywhere near a father who thinks of you as just _‘a bastard’_.”

“Is this, like, a sex thing?” Prompto fumbles through his worst fears.

“No,” Noctis shakes his head. “We’re going to have to sort of pretend it is, that you’re my new paramour, but I don’t expect anything. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’d just love having a friend and a roommate for college.”

“I’d like that…?” Prompto admits lamely. It sounds so silly. He’s just so shocked he doesn’t know what else to say. “You’re so nice… I… I didn’t think anyone important would notice me…”

“I’ve been to a lot of those stupid events,” Noctis shrugs, “and you’re one of the first real human beings I’ve actually met there.”

“If…” Prompto starts to laugh despite himself. “If everyone in Lucis is as nice as their Prince, I think it’s going to be a wonderful place.”

Noctis snorts, fishing up his hand and squeezing it.

“Are you okay?” Noctis checks.

“I think so…?” Prompto whispers. “It’s just going to take a while to sink in, I think.”

“That’s okay.” Noctis promises. “Ignis is really good at explaining stuff. He’ll teach you all the etiquette and shit. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“For the record,” Prompto takes a deep breath, “I’d still really like to go to Lucis with you.”

“Good,” Noctis grins. “Do you want me to get Aranea?”

“Please?” Prompto asks.

“One sec,” Noctis squeezes his hand as he stands, darting away.

Aranea looks a little bamboozled and suspicious as she sits down. Prompto thinks he might cry happy tears. Aranea takes one look at him and cocks her head to whisper;

“He _is_ an organ trafficker?”

“He’s—” Prompto laughs. _“He’s a literal Prince Charming.”_

“No fucking way.” Aranea gawks.

“Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum of Lucis, heir to the throne,” Prompto recites. “And he wants me to be his college roommate.”

“Fucking—” Aranea laughs a little too loud, covering her mouth. “Fucking _score_ , Prompto. Good fucking job, kid!” Aranea grabs his shoulder and shakes him hard, trying not to cackle. “I’m so fucking happy for you.”

* * *

The plane turns out to be a private jet piloted and secured by Kingsglaive and attended by two or three servants from the royal house. Noctis wasn’t lying about getting plane sick though. They’re barely in the air before Ignis is handing him a bag to puke into. Prompto winces sympathetically and reaches out to rub Noctis’ back as best he can without undoing his seatbelt.

“Is he going to be okay?” Prompto asks.

“We brought supplies,” Ignis assures, “but a little sympathy and affection never hurt.”

“On it,” Prompto promises.

“I don’t know why planes bother you so much,” Gladio snorts, “you can warp. I’ve seen you literally levitate.”

“Its different being in a microwave in the sky!” Noctis moans.

“You’ll be alright,” Ignis promises, getting an attendant to take away the puke bag now the seatbelt sign has switched off. Unbuckling his seat Ignis rubs Noctis’ back and starts murmuring; “drink something, you’ll feel better if you’re hydrated.”

Prompto can tell Ignis, Noctis and Gladio have a sincere camaraderie. Gladio and Ignis obviously love their Prince and Prompto doesn’t blame them honestly. Noctis takes a few mouthfuls of water and unbuckling his own seat Prompto slinks closer, touching Noctis’ elbow. Noctis slumps into this shoulder, moaning, and across the plane Aranea just snorts gently into her book.

“We use planes all the time in Niflheim, is it really that rare in Lucis?” Prompto asks, playing with Noctis’ hair.

“Oh Lucians fly, all the time,” Gladio snorts, “but not—”

“Not in microwave boxes!” Noctis reiterates the critical point.

Prompto laughs softly, trying not to jostle Noctis.

“How long’s the flight back?” Aranea wonders.

“Almost eighteen hours,” Ignis sighs.

“ _Eighteen—?_ Shit,” Aranea stresses, “pardon my language, Highness, but this is going to be a shit show if you’re already spewing your guts.”

“Don’t I know it,” Noctis moans. “Sorry for the spectacle.”

“It’s a good bonding exercise,” Aranea laughs softly. “Don’t stress it. You should see Prompto when he has a cold; absolute end of the fucking world.”

Noctis laughs.

“Sounds like we’re a match made in heaven,” he grins, still leaning against the blonde Niff.

Prompto snorts, arms folding around Noctis.

“Just going to go check in with the pilot,” Ignis murmurs, “think you can manage Prompto?”

“I’ve got him,” Prompto promises.

“What ya reading?” Gladio glances to Aranea. “Anything good?”

“Strategic techniques through history,” Aranea responds. “Fucking spicy. You?”

“Ugh, you’re one of those.” Gladio sighs. “Nah, man, it’s saucy period dramas all the way.”

“Oh my god, fuck you good Sir,” Aranea scoffs in disgust. “You read anything that doesn’t have a busty self-insert?”

“Yes, I read history books about _people._ ” Gladio counters. “Not instruction manuals on outdated—”

“My dude, you’re talking like you’ve got a gaping pussy,” Aranea holds up her hand to silence him. “It’s despicable. Read a real book sometime.”

“You’re the kind of person who finds knitting how-to’s riveting.” Gladio shakes his head, disgusted. “You’re not reading for pleasure. That’s sheer practicality and frankly it sickens me.”

“Careful with this one, Prom,” Aranea swivels in her chair, “leave him alone too long and he’ll start rubbing one off to an intense hand holding scene in one of his penny dreadfuls.”

“Ma’am you are talking a lot of smack,” Gladio shakes his head, “you had best be good at beer pong when we get home.”

“Good Sir, I will smoke you.” Aranea assures.

At this point Noctis is laughing so hard he doesn’t seem to be breathing. Prompto snorts, gathering him up, and nuzzles his temple.


End file.
